


I Don't Wanna Play Nice

by GRJ



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: All swearing, And cigarettes, Angst, Genderbent!enjolras, M/M, Racebent!feuilly, genderbent!courfeyrac, genderbent!jehan, racebent!enjolras, racebent!jehan, so much of the swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRJ/pseuds/GRJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What happened?" Marius asked softly, sitting next to Feuilly on the bench, while Enjolras stood in front of them lighting up a cigarette.<br/>"Just Bahorel. Being drunk, cockblocky Bahorel." Feuilly took a puff. "What else is new?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Wanna Play Nice

Bahorel's hand came crashing down, knocking Feuilly's beer out of his hand and narrowly missing his cigarette. Which is good because Feuilly would have actually attacked him, even though he’s pretty Bahorel is just fucking with him. (Never fuck with a man and his cigarettes.) "What the actual fuck, Bahorel?" Expecting to see a stupid mischievous grin on his face, but he looked like he was ready to rip Feuilly's head off, and was crowding him against the wall.

"Fuck you!" Bahorel roared.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Feuilly asked, while flicking the ash off his cigarette.

That's when Grantaire and Courfeyrac came outside. "Feuilly, go inside." Grantaire demanded.

"You, pretty, leave." Courfeyrac said to the girl who was outside with Feuilly, placing her hands on Bahorel's shoulders, leading him away from Feuilly. They had seen how Bahorel had been walking around like a caged animal since Feuilly went outside.

"Fuck, no." Feuilly challenged. "I'd like to finish my fucking cigarette and conversation." He turned to point at the girl, but she was gone.  When a 6'5" man made of all muscle starts yelling, you kinda hit the fucking bricks and don't look back. (No matter how cute the boy is.) Bahorel seethed at the mention of the girl.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Go smoke on the front porch." Grantaire yelled.

"Fucking hell." Feuilly murmured and stomped inside. He quickly ran thru Cosette, Eponine, and Jehan's house to not leaving it reeking like an ashtray. Marius and Enjolras got up and followed him to the porch.

"What happened?" Marius asked softly, sitting next to Feuilly on the bench, while Enjolras stood in front of them lighting up a cigarette.

"Just Bahorel. Being drunk, cockblocky Bahorel." Feuilly took a puff. "What else is new?"

"But he yelled at you." Marius inquired further.

"He yells at everyone when he's drunk." Feuilly took a sip of Marius's beer. "He thinks he has all the knowledge and that crap." He stared off into the night.

Enjolras flicked her cigarette to get the ash off. "Fuck that." She said. "You two never go at each other like that. We all made a bet to see how long it would take you to argue."

"Who won?" Feuilly smiled up at Enjolras.

"No one."

"Yeah, that bet ended… what, Enjolras? A month or two ago." Marius added.

"You beat Cosette's generous offer." Enjolras stated.

"How is Cosette? I haven't had a chance to catch up with her in a while." He turned his attention to Marius.

 

…

 

"What the hell?" Grantaire demanded after he finished his beer in one go.

"I'm really fucking pissed off right now." Bahorel said.

"You always are." Courfeyrac said sitting next to him on the pony wall.

"Like fucking madder than I have ever fucking been." He corrected.

"You said that when Enjolras finished off that bottle of Maker's Mark." Grantaire added.

"One. Marker's Mark is good, expensive whiskey. Two. Enjolras doesn't fucking drink. She wouldn't know good booze if it bit her on the ass."

"So you're madder than that?" Courfeyrac asked.

"I just…" Bahorel stopped. Courfeyrac was rubbing his shoulders.

"Yes?" Grantaire made a ‘keep going’ motion with his hand.

"I didn't fucking like that fucking girl." He finished quickly.

"Okay?" Courfeyrac asked. "She was nice and cute. Her and Feuilly seemed to really hit it off, so?" Bahorel tensed at his last sentence.

"This isn't about her!?" Grantaire threw his hands towards the sky. "This is about Feuilly." He began to light up a cigarette. "Dear Jesus."

"What the fuck is going on with you two?" Courfeyrac stood to join Grantaire.

"We've…" He dropped his head. “We've sleeping together for the past few months."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Courfeyrac screeched.

Grantaire dropped his cigarette. "You're both straight?" He leaned over to it pick up. "I thought."

"Well, it's only ever been casual." Bahorel said.

"I'd hope." Courfeyrac said. "You just took home a girl last week. She was a yeller." She told the last part only to Grantaire.

"So what?" Grantaire tried to wrap his head around it. "You sleep with each other, but… what? You get to sleep with other people and he doesn't?"

"No!" Bahorel tried to amend. "He just hasn't. He never really cared that I was still sleeping around. The always unmoved and unfazed Feuilly."

Everything was quiet for a moment. "When did it start?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Marius's birthday." Bahorel smiled a soft, sweet, uncontrollable kind of smile.

"Cosette is never allowed to make drinks again." Grantaire said. "Tweet that shit."

"It was an accident." Bahorel said. “We just kept on having accidents, I guess.”

"Didn't he take a girl home a few weeks back?" Courfeyrac asked. "When we went out after Joly made head med student or something like that."

"Head med student." Grantaire chuckled. "I'm tweeting that too. But yes, if I remember correctly."

They looked to Bahorel for an answer, but he looked like all his focus was trying to keep his temper down. "I don't fucking know, okay?" He tried to breathe evenly. "I thought I wouldn't care, but I fucking do!"

"You know what?" Courfeyrac started "I'm not surprised."

"You just yelled like your head had been chopped off." Grantaire snorted, throwing his arm around her.

"That was the initial shock. But it just makes sense now." She said thoughtfully, taking the final puff from his cigarette.

There was another pause. Grantaire lit up another cigarette. Jehan came outside and brought out three beers and Courfeyrac a kiss. She went back inside with a "I don't give a fuck, but keep the screaming down I'm trying to watch a fucking movie."

"You texted Jehan to bring out beers?" Courfeyrac was stunned.

"Well, I asked Enjolras first, but she said she was fucking busy. So. Next best choice of someone who wouldn't stay outside with us."

They drank in silence. Bahorel started on his own this time. "I like him. I like his stupid ginger hair, and his stupid freckles. I like his stupid work ethic. I like his stupid fucking nonchalant attitude. As if the fucking moon could fall on to him and he would not give a fuck." He took a long drag off of Grantaire's cigarette. "He's so fucking pretty."

"Now, this might sound crazy, but stay with me." Courfeyrac started. "Maybe tell him these things."

 

…

 

When they walked inside, the house was empty. The only sounds were the long abandoned movie on the TV screen. They walked out to the front were everyone was talking and laughing in an early morning kind of way. Quietly and tiredly.

Feuilly looked completed unconcerned with Bahorel's reappearance. He just continued to smoke his cigarette, but everybody else's eyes were on the two of them. Well, except for Grantaire, he was wrapping his arms around Enjolras's waist.

"Hey." Bahorel started lamely.

"Hey." Feuilly repeated.

"Can we talk?"

"Yup." Feuilly jumped up and followed Bahorel around the block.

When they we're far enough away from the others, Bahorel started "So-" but was cut off by Feuilly's fist connecting with his jaw.

"I get one day off a week. ONE, Bahorel. That means I get one night to have a regular-21-year-old night of fun, and you had to be an asshole, and you ruined it."

Bahorel tried to cut in "I'm sor-"

"No. No, you're not." Feuilly jabbed a finger in his face. "I don't get the luxury of a few hours a week at school, and a boss or parents who understand school work as an excuse. I don't get a spring break or summers off. I get to work. All of the time. You know this better than anyone else, Bahorel. And, what!?" Tears were threatening his eyes. He never complained about his lot in life. He just wasn't that guy; he usually smoked his feelings. "You wanted to fuck that girl, and I got in your way? So instead of turning on your usual fucking charm, you have to ruin my night."

Bahorel was silent. He knew Feuilly better than anyone, and he had never seen him like this. (Unless he was watching Warsaw play.)

"I didn't even want to sleep with her. It was just nice talking to her. She likes football, too. We talked about the fucking game. That was it! You could have still fucked her. I was fully prepared to go home and miss you until you decided I was worth your time again.” He took a deep breathe. “But whatever, I don't give a fuck." He lit a cigarette as started to stomp off back to their friends, hoping he'd stop crying but the time he got back. If not, he'd just text Bah- Marius and say he walked home.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from "Keep Your Shoes On" by Scissor Sisters. 
> 
> In my mind:  
> Feuilly - Nolan Sainte-Claire  
> Enjolras - Shanola Hampton (she's a bit too old but shhhh)  
> Courfeyrac - Kat Dennings  
> Jehan - Jenna Ushkowitz  
> Marius - Emile Hirsch  
> Bahorel - Jason Momoa  
> Grantaire - eludes me… ass


End file.
